Why I'm Thankful for Jay's Life and Legacy

After my last blog on leaving a legacy, I received so many emails from you dads that I decided to continue with that theme.

Here’s an observation I’ve made over time: You can tell a lot about the soul of a man by the way he speaks of his children.

And you can tell even more about the soul of a man by the way his children speak of him.

Maybe it’s because of my profession where I have the privilege of getting up close to heart stories or maybe it's because I'm a daughter myself, but the unarguable truth is that when a daughter knows she is loved by her dad, it shows.

I guess you could say that her face tells the story.

When I meet a father who intensely loves his daughter, my spirit dances. I smile and celebrate when hearing their stories. I even find myself flashing forward as I envision her as a confident, clear-headed woman who believes she can change the world, in large part due to the forever investment her dad has made.

I guess you could say that my face tells the story.

Today I want to highlight the profound life and legacy of my friend, Jay McKenney, a dad whose life told the story of sacrificial, fierce, committed love.

Jay battled an aggressive form of cancer for over a decade, and in January of 2021 his suffering ended when he transitioned from earth to heaven, leaving behind his wife Allison and two daughters, Macy and Ava.

At first glance he may have seemed like any ordinary father. But if you look closer, Jay will inspire you to never again take for granted even one day that you have with your daughters. For all throughout his excruciating battle, Jay remained committed to making sure they knew how much he treasured them.

Even as his body was failing, Jay showed love and support for his daughters, leaving them with forever memories. While his presence cannot be replaced in their lives, he took advantage of every opportunity to ensure that he left a love deposit.

I guess you could say that his legacy tells the story.

I’ll always remember the day he was my in-studio guest as we recorded an interview on my radio program, The Dad Whisperer. Jay wrote me early that morning because he found out that Ava was getting an award at school and said he needed to be there. He was willing to change his plans to surprise his daughter on her momentous day.

Another way that Jay’s fathering example touched my life was to see how he made sure to be present at Macy’s track meets, cheering her on from the sidelines. He knew he wouldn’t always be there in person, which is why he invested his time when he could so she would always remember he was there.

I guess you could say that his presence told the story.

I once asked Jay how he fathered differently after his diagnosis. Here’s what he said:

“Sometimes I think in some areas I’m less patient. If the conflict is about something trivial, I find myself having an internal dialogue about what’s really important in life, the big stuff, and how this isn’t it. So the challenge for me is to get to the heart of the matter in the trivial conflicts, and to find a way to love more in the way I handle them. Because even if the conflict is trivial, me loving them well through it is not.”

His response prompted me to then ask: As a father who is facing his own mortality in ways beyond what many have faced, is there anything you would say to other dads that you’ve discovered these past couple of years?

“From the moment you wake up, you are getting messages sent to you from the outside. The majority of them that say that you need to do something more, buy something more, have something more, and if you don’t you just aren’t quite succeeding. Your daughters are getting those same messages. From social media, from advertisements, even from friends and teachers. We, as their fathers, have the best chance to consistently send a better message, louder and more consistent than the others: That they are completely loved, now. That they are fully enough in your eyes simply because they exist and they are your daughter. They need to hear it, they need to know it, they need to feel it.”

Jay had a tribe of thousands on Facebook who watched his life closely because he allowed us to have a front row seat to his process. We all said we wanted to live like Jay, adopting his word #contend as our own because in his death he taught us how to live.

I wonder sometimes why we have to be pressed to the end of ourselves or the end of our lives to have clarity. I watched Jay’s life and can honestly say that he purposely lived each day to it's fullest, seeing every day as a gift. He knew that each day was one more day he had to invest in his lives of his precious girls, and he never wasted an opportunity to show them he loved them.

On this Thanksgiving week, I’m grateful for the way Jay reminds us all to be thankful, not only that we are alive, but that we have today to make a difference in the lives of those we love.